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Two identities can mean fostering different personalities; they can mean fostering different ways of being.

The first, Tim Drake-Wayne is rather ordinary in his own mind. He's bright. Does well in his college classes, but lacks true direction. Calculus and psychology hardly make for intrigue in the young adopted-Wayne's life. He studies. Works hard. And commutes to Wayne Manor from school so he can have some semblance of family. He loves his car (he REALLY love his car; aptly named Red Bird). And Tim, normally, can have a life if he wants it. Although, he swore of girls.

The second is Robin. Robin comes out at night. He investigates crimes. He kicks criminal-butt. He is Batman's protege. And now? He almost has a girlfriend. Maybe.

Lately Robin has gotten a lot more airtime.

Which could be why, in the middle of the day, when Tim should probably be out in classes, Tim Drake-Wayne sits alongside the gotham river. His calculus textbook is opened to a particularly difficult formula and he scribbles madly in it as he derives it from scratch. Maybe it's homework? Maybe it's for fun? With Tim, it's almost impossible to know.

Being the ordinary identity, Tim looks rather ordinary today. Somewhere not far off, his car is probably parked in a very average looking parking lot. His very average blue jeans, matched with his red hoodie make for good by-the-river wear. And his sneakers rest beside him on the grass. Why he chose to take off his shoes is anyone's guess.

The track about the river is a regular jogging place for runners and those attempting to get in shape. This afternoon there is a lone runner that Tim can see approaching down the stretch way. Her curly black hair is pulled back into a neat pony tail. And while she is wearing exercise clothes, they are top of the line and perfectly fitted.

Naturally, the woman slows a few yard away from Tim before coming to a walk and then starts stretching. She glances at the young boy stretched out in the grass before the river. "College?" she asks the young man, chin gesturing toward the text book open before him. It's soft and as unobtrusive as she can manage. Her accent sounds faintly British with a foreign tinge: hard to place.

The interruption causes Tim to cast the runner a rather boyish grin. Yet even with that turn of his lips, the smile doesn't quite meet his eyes. In fact, there's clear exhaustion and fatigue there. Despite the tired that Drake seems to suffer, his gaze has the warmth of kindness. Carefully he lowers the pencil from the paper. The interjection is not unwelcome, it would seem. "Just working through some calculus. Midterm coming up. Or so my syllabus tells me." He's skipped class for the last two weeks.

He actually grins at her, causing his cheeks to offer two dimples in turn followed by a nod in greeting. "Enjoying some fresh air?" he asks as his smile turns crooked. "Gotta be careful to only run here in daylight. Not the safest area of the city."

As Talia stretches, she leans her torso over her lean legs for a few moments. Then, she leans one way and then the other, pulling taut the muscles she's attempting to strengthen. "It must exhaust you," she says understandingly, speaking of the text books. "Studying all the time must be draining. Is Calculus something you wish to spend the rest of your life doing?"

As for her own safety, she waves an unconcerned hand. "I know what is safe and what is not safe," she assures the much younger Tim. "Hence why I run here now and not later." The older woman gives Tim a bit of a smile. "Yet, you're here to give a warning despite the supposed danger. I suppose you are gone by the time night falls?"

Tim actually grins at the thought of always studying. "I'm not as devoted as I should be." He shrugs his shoulders and shoots her a toothy grin. But the grin fails at the question. "I dunno. Does anyone know what they're doing with their life?" His eyebrows draw together and he forces the smile again. "Just… too many options I guess." Pause. "Or not enough." There's another pause. "I mean. Calculus is a bit pigeon-hole-y, you know?" His tone is light.

There's a chuckle and he nods. "I'll be long gone before night falls. I'm not crazy enough to stay out here after dark. Gotham is a great place, but it's not exactly known for being safe. Not that I feel unsafe here either…" Because he doesn't.

"Oh, I don't know, sitting here on the banks of river with a text book? That seems devoted." Talia straightens and pulls a leg backward, holding it against her backside in a stretch. "That is quite the question," she replies with a pleased smile. "I guess you may not, but I am sure you have aspirations and desires. Even if calculus is not top among them."

With a glance about their surroundings, the woman nods. "Yes, you are right. This is not the sort of place to hang about once night has fallen." At his assertion, she gives a short laugh. "Ah, the pride of youth. Thinking you are able to take on every obstacle and challenge given to you. Whether it be calculus or brigands."

The assertion has Tim scratching his head, simultaneously mussing his hair int he process. "I should be in class," he clarifies and then shrugs. "But… sometimes it seems like I get more from not-going than going." He can't help but smirk as he notes, "My professor might be very good. Theoretically a teacher should help you get better… Until you can't learn anything else from them, right?" His grin actually falters again. "So. When you can't learn anything else, and you know that you're not getting anything else out of that, it's time to figure things out on your own, right?"

He coughs and looks back towards the water. "Well I wouldn't stay out here past dark. No one is that prideful. They say even the Batman takes to rooftops for good reason." He smirks again.

Talia waves a hand at the assertation that he should be in class. "You can learn many things in a class room," she tells him. "But, you can learn much more outside of it." Planting both her feet on the ground, she comes to rest for the first time as she studies Tim and his text book. "You can learn many things from a good teacher," she tells him seriously. "But, the best lessons you must learn yourself."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, she smiles, attempting to take the sting out of her words. "You have still not told me what it is you thought you would like to do. I guess not to be pigeon holed into calculus? But, what is all the studying for?" As for the danger an the Batman, she laughs. "I am sure he does. But, they say many things about the Batman and I am not sure I believe them all."

He shifts on the grass, finally reaching for his shoes to tie the sneakers back onto his feet. "And what are the best lessons?" his eyebrow arches upwards. "Sometimes I wonder if I've outgrown many of my teachers — " with a twist of his lips he hmms. "Or maybe I was seeking the wrong teachers all the while?"

The question has Tim shrugging, "I dunno. Keep the mind sharp." His eyes track back towards the river, a telling change of course. "What is it anyone does with anything? Get a career… maybe. In something. Somewhere. My parents probably would've wanted me to take over their business. But, to be honest, I have no interest. And… I'm not sure I really understand what they did anyways. Capital. Something." He waves a hand. "But I don't think I want to live someone else's life. Even if it's well-intentioned."

Talia watches Tim with interest as he pulls on his shoes. Much like a cat with a mouse she wishes to chase but not kill, her eyes flick between the tying of his shoes and his face a bit of his internal turmoil to a stranger. Perfect. the smile she gives Tim is as compassionate as she can manage, but there is still an edge of something calculating underneath it.

"There are no wrong teachers. Even when you learn improperly, you still learn," she tells him in a matter of fact tone. "Well, you seem a bright fellow. I may be able to help you with a career, depending on your interests." Her hands pat her sweatpants down, but she does not have anything identifying on her person.

"Forgive me, I left my business cards at home with my wallet. However, come see me at the Trutina building," she tells him with a smile. "Call my secretary - Caroline - to set up an appointment. I'll tell her to expect your call. There are many opportunities there. Business, captial, research, maybe even calculus. Tell me your name so that Caroline knows who to expect?"

With no real direction anyways, a second Robin in town saying he's the only Robin to know (and evidently Bruce's bio-son to boot), it's not like Tim Drake is particularly difficult prey these days. Even his would-be girlfriend is dating Robin, not Tim. Who's to say she'd notice the difference between him and Damian?

Swallowing hard, he shoots a more polite smile that turns somewhat lopsided when she can't find a card. She's personable to be sure, and her charms have not gone unnoticed. "Trutina building," he repeats. "I'm sorry. I should've introduced myself earlier." And then, standing to his feet he reaches out to shake her hand, "Tim Drake," there's a pause and he thinks to tack on later than he probably should, "-Wayne. Nice to meet you."